Aftermath of an Unfortunate Day
by lokiMMXII
Summary: "If he was honest he felt exposed without his semi-constant layer of filth and sweat."
1. Chapter 1

It was a strange thing, seeing himself properly clean for the first time in a long while. He'd never gone the extra mile to rid himself of the layers of dirt, grime and whatever else had stuck to him along the way. He hadn't with his clothes either. Not like the others had anyway. Sure he'd get rid of any walker blood or guts but that was just plain common sense rather than vanity or presentation. It was the same at the CDC as well. Everyone had been excited about the showers. He'd been in and out of his shower. Just long enough to be passably clean and then he got back to his mission; getting shit face drunk for the first time since the world had gone to shit. Hell, on the way back from his little accident he hadn't even bothered to clean the blood from around his mouth. He knew it was there. Could feel the wind on it while it was still damp. He just didn't care. Maybe he should have. Might have saved him another near death experience.

Hershel had insisted on this shower though. Something about keeping wounds clean. He would have done the same routine as the CDC but the blood matted in his hair meant this time he had to be a little more thorough.

If he was honest he felt exposed without his semi-constant layer of filth and sweat.

"It's how a real man is supposed to smell," that's what Merle had said once, "None of this $100 bullshit those city pussies douse themselves in. Fucking fags."

Looking at his reflection Daryl can confidently say he looks like shit. Not that the blood, sweat and mud look had been particularly attractive but at least then he looked as though there was a reason for it. That he'd been doing something. Surviving mostly. But right now he just seems tired, drawn and wore down.

He lets out a sigh. Something he never would have done if he was in the company of the rest of the group.

When he was younger Merle used to call him the pretty boy of the family.

Pretty boy. It wasn't a complement in the Dixon family. It was another way of saying weak, inferior, the runt of their little pack. He remembered one time when Merle had dragged him to the doctors because he couldn't be bothered to drive. Merle had been flipping through all the stupid magazines they have lying around the waiting area; commenting loudly on just what he'd like to do with some of the women in them much to the disgust of all the ladies present. That's when he'd come across some photos of some model douche and immediately put the magazine up next to Daryl's face and said,

"Well I be damned. Turns out you have a motherfucking twin."

For the next few days he was like a dog with a bone. Just when Daryl thought he was done he'd start up again.

"How about me and you get in the truck, drive to New York or LA, get you an agent and you can become a proper pretty princess. They might even let you wear a tiara in one of your pictures. You'll have to suck the right guys' dicks though if you want to make the big money. Let's face it. Your face is probably the only half decent thing about you. And fuck lot of good that is way out here."

When it'd become obvious that Merle wasn't going to let it lie then it had to be settled the Dixon way. Daryl had launched himself at his brother, fists swinging and spitting curses. He'd woken up sprawled out on the floor. Body aching and jaw throbbing something awful. The next time he'd seen Merle, in the early hours of the next morning, Merle just bitched to him about some asshole of a bartender who cut him off. It was if he hadn't left his brother lying unconscious to go get wasted at some bar. There were no apologies. It was just never mentioned.

That was the Dixon way.

Which is partially why he's currently dreading going downstairs. Andrea is probably going to want to apologise; because that's what good, normal people do when they've screwed up and want to set everything right. And, he supposed, shooting a guy in the head counts as one hell of a screw up. A large part of him hoped to hell that she didn't try though. The only time he remembered someone apologising to him and seeming as though they actually meant it was when some social services lady came calling. Merle had taught him how to handle her type. What to say and what not to say. And he reminded him of what he should have done, normally in a way in Daryl wouldn't quickly forget, whenever he fucked up. He hadn't messed up that time though. He'd done everything perfect so she didn't have a single shred of evidence to back up any of her concerns. She'd been getting in her car when she'd stopped and turned to look him right in the eye and said she was sorry. It had pissed him off. Daryl hadn't wanted her pity or sympathy or whatever the hell she was offering with her little apology. So he replied in way he thought best summed up his feelings. He told her to go fuck herself.

His thoughts turned to the pile a clothes Hershel had given him to wear. They had belonged to his son or step son or some shit like that. Once again he was sort of insistent about the upkeep of hygiene near healing wounds and therefore dirty clothes just wouldn't do.

Subconsciously his hand moved towards his mouth and one of his nail found its way between his teeth. He chewed on it all the while weighing up his options. He'd have to wear them otherwise there would be questions. He was already going to get enough questions and glances what with his current condition. This time he wouldn't be able to just fuck off into the woods. And he doubted his ability to intimidate when he looked like he did.

When he's finished getting dressed (which involved some painful and awkward manoeuvring but there was no way he's calling out for help to get dressed) he reaches a conclusion. The clothes fit too well. Too good of a fit and too clean. He feels an itch. A compulsion to keep pulling fabric further away from his body. They're just not him.

Before leaving the bathroom he takes one more look in the mirror.

The image staring back at him is wrong. It feels like he's playing dress up. He looks... normal. You might even say approachable if it wasn't for the scowl etched across his face. He hasn't got his knife or his crossbow. It's like he's been domesticated.

With a final snort of disgust Daryl leaves the room. It's time to face the little group. Doubt they'll let him do anything but rest up around here in this shithole. Just what Daryl needs. An entire day of inactivity to make him feel utterly useless.


	2. Chapter 2

Carol remembered the first time she set eyes on the Dixon brothers. She remembered automatically checking to see where Sophia was at and she remembered the tension and unease that suddenly filled their camp. The two brothers had looked like the type of people you cross the street just to avoid but add to that the weaponry they had with them and they were near terrifying.

People had been scared of having them stay but also equally scared of turning them away. So people let them be. They stuck with each other and were always a little way away from the rest of the group. Merle had an edge to him, even when laughing and joking (in his own disgusting way) he always seemed as though at any minute he'd just flip. Daryl was the mystery out of the two of them. He had a temper but he was quiet, watchful and he didn't interact with the others as much as Merle did. Thinking back it was almost as though Merle purposefully kept Daryl and the rest of the group separate.

You may have got Merle at the camp without Daryl but Daryl never stuck around if Merle wasn't there. Shane hadn't liked that but there was nothing that could be done. A lot of them may not have liked them but they needed the Dixon's skills and manpower but the Dixons... they didn't need them nor did they seem to like them that much. Irritating them, as well being like poking a bear with a stick, would just lose them one of their best survival resources. As long as they were keeping the camp safe and well supplied they were a necessary evil as far as most were concerned.

She'd never really thought about these things before. If it wasn't for her need to keep her mind occupied with something else other than the thoughts and images of her daughter being out there on her own, possibly being torn apart by the walking dead then she probably would never have took the time to consider it.

Carol remembered the day Rick Grimes had shown up. She remembered when the majority of the group had sat around the fire and how Daryl and Merle had seemed like an afterthought. Anyone who volunteered to tell Daryl or take responsibility was treat as though they'd just asked to be used as walker bait. Amy had even suggested lying to Daryl about it. In all honestly Carol had felt similar to the others. She was scared of Daryl's reaction. Not really for herself but for Sophia and the people at camp she cared about. She didn't want anyone to get hurt.

If someone had told her then that one day in the future her little girl would be lost and the person who would be keeping her hope alive, the person who would be doing everything in their power to find her, would be Daryl Dixon she wouldn't have believed them for a second.

Slowly she felt as though she was beginning to understand certain things about the youngest Dixon.

She recalled a moment, the day Sophia had gone missing, when they returned to the road and Daryl had found some rags lying on the motorcycle. He never struck her as being much of neat freak but he sure seemed annoyed at Dale for putting them there. It was days later when she was thinking back that she realised he had told Dale to keep his dirty rags off his brother's motorcycle. Not his. His brother's. And sitting here with Sophia's doll grasped in her hand she felt as though she really did understand. Her daughter adored this doll. She took it to bed with her at night and when she got up in the morning she'd always have it clasped in her hands. It was one of her most treasured possessions and now Sophia was lost to her the doll felt some what sacred. It felt as though it held her daughter's memory, her love. Carol remembered Merle always tinkering with that bike, keeping it clean even though he didn't seem to care much for his own cleanliness and his reactions if anyone else approached the bike were near territorial. Daryl may not come out and admit it (even to himself), he'd probably think it were sappy but Carol knew the sentiment was the same. His steadfast refusal to leave that bike behind showed that.

Yes, if anyone in the group understood her situation it was Daryl.

She looked up from Sophia's doll when she felt silence fall over the gathered group. They'd been talking amongst themselves while waiting for everyone to settle and finish their breakfast. It was time to decide what would be done today. The usual topic of who would go out and continue the search for Sophia was of on the agenda but there was another thing to discuss. Last night, before they'd all gone to bed, Shane had brought up Daryl's ear necklace as well as Andrea's mistake and Daryl's famous temper. Just like when Merle had been left behind people were worried.

It was Shane that spoke first.

"I think he's lost it. Not like he had it much together in the first place. But cutting the ears off walkers and wearing them. Then there was the way he was talking when he got back to camp...He sounded paranoid. And if he's not completely gone then this just shows he's capable of it."

Rick sighed before responding.

"We're all capable of it. Especially in the circumstances we're living in. He'd lost a lot of blood and it looked as though he'd hit his head. I don't think anyone in that state would be thinking too clearly."

"You were up there when Hershel was stitching him up. You saw those scars. The guy is damaged. Probably been screwed in the head long before the dead started walking."

Carol thought of the flower back in the RV. She thought of the man that had gave it to her awkwardly telling her its story. She remembered him telling her that she didn't need prayer because Sophia was going to be fine and she recalled him leaving the farm to continue his search almost as soon as he could even though she'd kept him awake almost all night crying.

"I trust him." she said, everyone's attention now turning to her.

Shane scoffed.

"Just because he's been going all out on his search for your daughter doesn't mean you can ignore the safety of the group. He's always been dangerous. Might have been better if we'd lost both Dixons at once."

"He flinched."

"...What?"

She took a moment to contemplate whether she should really bring this up but she felt as though she needed to make them understand.

"When I took him some dinner last night I went to kiss him on the forehead to thank him for all he's done. He flinched away. I don't think for a second he was scared of me hurting him because well... if he's not scared of the walkers. I just don't think he was used to it. Maybe didn't understand why I'd do it."

"Yea, he had a shit life before everyone else's life went to shit. That isn't really helping dispute the fact he's damaged goods."

"Daryl was raised different to the rest of us. He's a survivor. Whatever he went through before we met him he survived it. All of this killing, hunting and living this life we've been left with seems to come easy to him. We all came from different backgrounds. We're learning new ways of life. We're all adapting. He's learning the things that come naturally to us. He's trying."

There was silence after she finished while the people around her seemed to consider what she had said.

"I agree."

"...Andrea..." Shane said with a level of incredulity

But Andrea pressed on with what she had to say before Shane could say anymore.

"That night we went out looking for Sophia we came across a walker hanging from a tree. Daryl didn't seem that bothered by it; he was just going to leave it there. I wanted him to kill it. He did. He wasted an arrow on something that didn't help his survival. He's changing or maybe we're just starting to grow on him but either way we need him."

"I trust him too," T-Dog this time "He went out of his way to save my ass. He'd been safe where he'd been hiding but he saw me in trouble and he helped me. Then when I was hit by that infection he broke into his brother's stash. I'm part of the reason his brother isn't around any more and he still did that for me. He's alright by me."

Glenn nodded his agreement and looking around the circle it was obvious no-one else but Shane was going to voice any disagreement. Carol felt relief flood through her.

She turned her attention back to Rick just in time to see a small smile of approval flicker across his face before he nodded and said,

"Right. Now that matter is settled, we have a new area of focus for our search... Same groups as yesterday unless anyone has any objections."

Carol sighed. Another day of sitting on edge hoping that there'd be at least an answer when the search party came back. But today she wasn't just going to be left with just laundry and cleaning to keep her mind from imagining the worst. Today she was going to have to find a way to keep Daryl Dixon from doing himself any further injury.


End file.
